


Slow it down for me, baby

by ANTchan



Series: Doo-Wops & Hooligans [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: 13 Days of SniperPilot Halloween, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy of Errors, Dorks in Love, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M, POV Alternating, Prompt Fic, someone save them, they're such disasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-17 15:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16519091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANTchan/pseuds/ANTchan
Summary: “So what’s this Calrissian’s Midnight Masquerade that I keep getting emails for?”Lando Calrissian's Midnight Masquerade is THE Halloween party on campus. A place to drink, dance, and show off your Halloween spirit - and just maybe, find love by the midnight kiss.The only thing bigger than the Masquerade just might be Bodhi's crush on Cassian Andor. But maybe, just maybe, he'll be brave enough to kiss Cassian if he doesn't have to be just Bodhi while doing it.Written for Day 2 of the SniperPilot Halloween event, AND for the Halloween theme on the Rogue One Discord. Loosely based on the prompt: "We accidentally showed up to a party in coordinating costumes, and now everyone thinks you’re my date."





	Slow it down for me, baby

**Author's Note:**

> Subtitle: This entire disaster could have been easily avoided.
> 
> Welcome to the return of this soft college au, following immediately after the last one. In honor of Halloween (five days late shhhh) I had to continue it! This is a late entry to the SniperPilot Halloween event, and I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> I'd like to give an extra special thank you to rogueshadows and Sassysnowperson, who beta'd and cheered me on and even helped me write this DISASTER of a summary. Thank you so much guys!

\--------------------1---------------------

Things do not work out.

A month passes, and another, and suddenly the end of October is nearing and Cassian is no closer to asking Bodhi on an actual date.

“What are you even waiting for?” is Kay's question at least once a week.

He has a number of excuses that he goes with:

“It's got to be _right.”_

“I'm broke. Where am I going to take him on a date, McDonald's? Real romantic.”

“I don't think he feels that way, Kay.”

“I don’t want to lose him.”

That last one is the closest to the core of it all. Because Cassian _likes_ being around Bodhi. He likes going to NiJedha Bagel & Deli after their first class, still half asleep and slap happy. He likes hanging out in the library with Bodhi twice or even three times a week. He likes wandering aimlessly around campus with him or bemoaning their overbearing roommates. And even though every day is the sweetest kind of torture, Cassian doesn't feel the need to _rush_ things either. 

Bodhi's his _friend_ now. Bodhi means something, more than a stupid crush, and Cassian isn’t about to jeopardize that by diving in with his half-baked romantic intentions. No matter how many times Kay scoffs at him for waiting.

“So what’s this Calrissian’s Midnight Masquerade that I keep getting emails for?”

Today they’re loitering on a bench in the campus square, nursing their drinks from the café around the corner. Once fall weather had hit, Bodhi started ordering a ridiculously elaborate pumpkin spice concoction that Cassian teases him for every time. Today Bodhi’s cradling it protectively on his knee while he scrolls through his phone with his other hand. He looks warm and soft bundled up in his hoodie and a slightly oversized beanie. Cassian fidgets with the collar of his jacket, tucking it tighter against his throat to ward off the crisp autumn wind. It’s so easy to imagine shifting closer, sharing Bodhi’s warmth.

“Cass?”

He blinks, plays back the last several seconds in his head. “Sorry, guess I’m not awake yet.”

Bodhi’s lips curve gently, and he nods at the cup in Cassian’s hand. “Maybe you need to drink that one faster. Apparently ‘black as Leia’s soul’ coffee isn’t strong enough.”

Cassian narrows his eyes playfully. “Leave my coffee alone. It’s perfectly acceptable coffee - not five types of syrup and foam with espresso for flavor.”

Bodhi takes a sip of his pumpkin spice abomination in sheer rebellion, arching a brow at him until Cassian breaks into smile. “Y’gonna answer my question?” he mumbles around the rim of the cup.

“It’s one of Lando’s parties. He started holding them at one of the nicer frat houses back when he was a freshman - don’t ask me _how_. Nobody knows how. He holds this one every Halloween. You go in full costume with masks or makeup.” And here he rolls his eyes. “They do this thing, where you find someone to dance with and at midnight they turn off the lights for a few minutes. Because Lando’s a horrible romantic that way.”

He doesn’t even consider his own words until they’re out of his mouth, until the question _“So, are you going?”_ is on the tip of his tongue and barely stopped from leaving his mouth. Until Bodhi chokes a little on his drink, his eyes going a little wide.

“Are you serious? He uses it for a… a giant blind date?”

Luckily, Cassian can blame the sudden blush on his cheeks on the chill wind. “I guess? Everyone goes for it, though. It’s a lot of fun. The… stupid matchmaking set-up aside.”

“You’ve been?”

He nods. “Yeah, last year. Thought I might go again this year…” He trails off to avoid asking obvious questions that are only going to get him in trouble.

Bodhi doesn’t offer up anything in return, only humming thoughtfully and staring out at a group of students huddled around the fountain. After a prolonged beat of silence, he leans conspiratorially closer. “So what are you going as this year?”

“Bodhi!” he laughs. “That’s supposed to be a secret! That’s the whole point!”

It earns him a playful shove, as Bodhi retorts: “I’m not going if I don’t know who I can hang out with! How am I supposed to know it’s you?!”

“You’d know it was me,” Cassian snickers. He climbs to his feet and gives Bodhi a fond look. “I’d be able to find you, easy.”

“Oh yeah?” Bodhi’s eyes glint in the cool autumn sun, warm and dark.

“Yeah, always.” Cassian scoffs, and tips his head. “Come on, don’t you have class soon?”

“Shit.” Bodhi quickly stands, juggling his coffee and his things, already on the move. “Yeah, with Gerrera… what made me think taking Stage Tech as an elective was going to be fun?”

They hurry together out of the quad. Even after months, Cassian has yet to mention that his next class actually _isn’t_ on the way past the theatre building, and is in fact on the other side of campus. But… his class doesn’t start until after Bodhi’s, and he doesn’t mind the walk so much.

“Hey, Cass?” Bodhi speaks up slowly from beside him. “If you went to this thing last year, who did you end up doing the whole ‘midnight kiss’ thing with?”

Cassian bites the inside of his cheek, not sure if he wants to grimace or laugh. “...Solo.”

Bodhi’s shriek of laughter is worth it, though.

\--------------------2---------------------

“Am I actually doing this?” Bodhi finds himself muttering a week later, on Halloween night. He’s peering into the plastic bag at his packaged costume, feeling for all the world like it might come alive and bite him. He’d spent the week going back and forth on the entire subject of Lando Calrissian’s party, social anxiety warring with… something else entirely.

_“You’d know it was me. I’d be able to find you, easy.”_

It’s stupid, really.

It’s _stupid_ that he actually thought Cassian could be flirting with him, from his gentle, teasing smile and the way his eyes lingered on Bodhi’s. It’s _stupid_ that he’s actually considering going to this party on a longshot of, what, not only finding Cassian but keeping his attention long enough to kiss him at midnight?

He shoves the bag back behind his bed as the door opens, Luke bustling in. His roommate has a gray flannel shirt and ripped jeans on… and clawed, furred hands with long spindly fingers.

“What are you going to be?” Bodhi asks.

Luke gestures with his costumed hands, flashing Bodhi a sunny, crooked smile. “The Teen Wolf. Leia’s going to help me get the face makeup on at her place.” He walks over to his side of the room and grabs a bag out of the drawer. And then he turns a gentle, concerned look on Bodhi. “You’re really not going anywhere tonight?”

It’s an innocent question, and Luke has the best of intentions - has had the best of intentions since the very first moment Bodhi stepped into this room. But Bodhi is on edge, and still doesn’t know what to do with a roommate who’s actually nice to him. So he just shrugs lamely. “No, parties aren’t… really my thing. I’d rather just stay here.”

“Okay, well if you change your mind, Lando’s door is open all night tonight. You’re always welcome to come join.”

Bodhi thanks him sheepishly, but still doesn’t move until Luke has been gone from the room for several minutes. The hallway is full of laughter and sometimes outright running footsteps as students get ready to go out for parties or haunted houses or any number of things. Everyone around him is going out and having fun and he’s… just going to sit here all night? Alone?

Bodhi is so _tired_ of being alone.

He’s chosen a Spider-Man costume, of all things. It’s easily to find them at most stores and doesn’t take a lot of work to put on. At least, that’s what he thinks before he finds himself hopping around his room cursing at the clingy bodysuit. He’d paid a little extra (a little more than he should have, honestly), if only to have a costume that didn’t look like he was wearing a plastic, Spider-Man shaped bag. 

It feels like an entire hour has passed by the time he’s wrangled the whole thing on and zipped up the back, breathing heavy as he stands in the middle of the room. 

He looks himself over in the mirror hanging by the door, unsure what to think of seeing a Spider-Man mask in place of his own reflection. 

“Well, Spidey, it’s time to go get your man. ...If you can find him.”

\--------------------3---------------------

The fact that the Beta Sigma Nu, or Bespin, House is commonly referred to as _Lando’s_ is telling enough. Lando Calrissian is one of the big names on campus, the undisputed king of parties at Alliance. Even before Bodhi had Cassian explain what Calrissian’s Midnight Masquerade was, he had an idea of the sheer scale of what he was going to find.

He hears the party nearly two blocks away - laughter and shouts and ghoulish soundtracks overlaid with the bone-vibrating bass of dance music. It has Bodhi slowing to a stop, listening to the cacophony and thinking back to the last party he’d tried to go to, back at Coruscanti Prep. _There_ he had felt utterly alone, singled out in the crowd. And… he was pretty sure some of his more vile classmates were trying to find ways to haze him the whole time. 

But nothing at Alliance has ever made his skin crawl quite the same way, and so Bodhi forces down the welling anxiety and continues on.

He spots the first costumed students a mere moment later, wandering along the street and laughing behind their masks. The party isn’t contained simply to Bespin House, crowded on the lawns of it and the neighboring frat houses. There’s costumes of all types that Bodhi can see even before he approaches, ranging from people who are just wearing their everyday clothes with cheap masks covering their faces to those going all out for the spectacle.

He spots a towering “creature” in the distance, spindly limbs encased in black fabric and sculpted plastic. Bodhi doesn’t recognize it as a character or monster - but finds it fascinating all the same. He wanders closer to get a better look at the detailed costume, dodging out of the way of solo cups and laughing partygoers with only a small amount of grace. 

The person inside the costume swivels their head around as Bodhi clears the crowd, and he’s immediately taken aback by the blank, glowing eyes of the mask. Other than the eyes and a contraption near the “jaw,” a twisted facsimile of a mouth, the mask is black and expressionless. But somehow, perhaps in the jaunty way the person turns, towering over Bodhi by a good two feet on their stilts, there’s a _feeling_ that emanates off of them.

“That’s a sharp costume,” Bodhi greets, trying to speak clearly through his own mask. “What’s it supposed to be?”

The creature gestures with its long arms, an action so smooth that it looks natural. Natural, and full of familiar sass. “I’m a robot.”

If the, slightly muffled, voice isn’t enough of a clue, then the _tone_ certainly is. “ _Kay?_ ”

“Bodhi?” There’s genuine laughter in Kay’s voice now, reminiscent of their first meeting - it’s something devious and cunning, but Bodhi has learned that it isn’t _mean._ Kay is perfectly capable of being mean, but his methods are entirely different from this. “Your costume is… fitting.”

Bodhi glances down at himself, tugging at his clinging costume. “Uh. Thanks?”

Even with the bass thumping from the house, Bodhi can hear the clattering of the plastic chassis as Kay trembles in silent laughter. He gets the distinct impression he’s stumbled into a joke that only Kay knows the punchline for. “It’s good you came,” Kay manages after a minute. “You should go inside - that’s where all the _dancing_ is.”

 _“Is that where Cassian is?”_ he wants to ask. But the almost _expectant_ look on Kay’s expressionless mask has the words lodging in his throat. Bodhi’s suddenly aware of how obvious he’s being. How pointed Kay’s words are. A nauseous panic washes over him. How long has Kay _known_ about this horrible, pathetic crush Bodhi has been harboring for his best friend?

“Did Cassian come with you?” He tries to keep his voice casual. He’s not sure he accomplishes it.

“Could be. You’ll have to find out.”

“Kay, come on.” Bodhi gestures emphatically around him. “This whole masquerade bit is _silly._ ”

“It sure is. Good luck finding him in there. Have fun.” One spindly arm reaches out with expert ease, shooing Bodhi in the direction of the house. 

“And stay away from Solo’s tub juice!” Bodhi hears faintly as he stalks away. “It’ll melt your liver!”

Stepping inside the house immediately ratchets up his anxiety by several degrees. The front room is crowded and just claustrophobic enough for Bodhi to wish he could _actually_ climb walls like his chosen costume. He murmurs quick excuses as he attempts to pass through the foyer, knowing his voice won’t even be heard over the music blasting from deeper in the house.

“Hey! Welcome to the party!”

The deep, boisterous greeting makes him jump, and he turns at the smooth laugh that follows. And Bodhi finds himself standing before Lando Calrissian, the man of the hour himself. Even with the elaborate carnival mask on, he’s easily recognizable. His costume - a clear, and incredibly accurate rendition of Prince - is clearly meant more to accentuate the man wearing it rather than to conceal him. The royal purple coat with studded shoulders looks strangely at home on him, as does the frilled cravat and loose white shirt underneath.

Lando wanders closer to him, smile impossibly charming - the talk around campus didn’t do the sheer effect of that smile any justice. “Just saw you come in, and I wasn’t about to let you slip by without a welcome. Lando Calrissian, and you are…?” He’s in Bodhi’s space now, and Bodhi silently marvels how he seems to expertly walk the line of innocently leaning in to be heard and flirtatious without being sleazy. 

His face grows hot, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the crowded room or his confining costume. “Ah… isn’t that supposed to be a secret?”

There’s an appraising glint in Lando’s eyes behind the mask, something lingering and appreciative that gives him a jolt. “It is only if you want it to be.”

“Uh. I… Well.”

A strong hand gently rests between Bodhi’s shoulder blades as Lando gestures around the house. He remains tucked close to Bodhi’s side, his voice clear and deep in his ear. “Take your time, baby. Now, kitchen is that way if you need anything. Punch, beer, snacks - but Solo’s got a mix in there that’ll melt your brain through your socks, so watch out.”

“Yeah, I got that warning.”

“Then someone’s looking out for you. The dance is through there,” here Lando points through an archway covered in ripped black netting. “We’ve got Art DJing for us tonight. Stairs are at the back. You can get to the backyard through the kitchen - we’ve got a haunted maze and some games back there if you don’t wanna dance. And if you _do_ want to dance… you can always find me hanging around here.”

Bodhi sputters, gesturing helplessly. Lando seems to understand his pathetic grasping for words, and smiles.

“No pressure, baby. Have fun tonight.”

Lando melds back into the crowd, almost immediately set upon by more than one costumed admirer. By the sound of it, what Bodhi can hear over the music anyway, he won’t have any trouble finding someone else to dance with.

Which leaves Bodhi standing in the house’s foyer, surrounded by strangers in costume and no idea how to find Cassian.

He takes a slow, steading breath.

Now what?

\--------------------4---------------------

He makes a useless cycle of the house, wandering from room to room in hopes that he will just… run into Cassian by fate alone. He ends up awkwardly standing near the kitchen doorway for a while, nursing a beer with his mask folded up. He watches Luke in his werewolf-in-flannel getup across the room, in deep conversation with what looks to be Han Solo dressed as a gladiator. Bodhi considers going over to say hello, only stopped by his own embarrassment. As far as Luke knows, his taciturn roommate is being a homebody tonight.

He’s saved from his own awkwardness eventually, by a friendly, slightly tipsy, Miss Marvel who comes bounding up to him and whisks him away to join her and her two fellow superhero friends in the haunted maze. 

(It’s a hastily erected tent in the backyard of Bespin House, complete with fog machines to disguise just how small and simple the “maze” really is. Kay has somehow been recruited among the scarers, and him lunging out of the shadows with his lanky robot arms inadvertently saves Bodhi from a Venom that’s been a little too handsy.)

By the time he returns to the house, Bodhi feels a little less out of place. He leaves Miss Marvel and her friends to a rousing, offkilter game of pumpkin cornhole and heads back inside. His spirits are a little higher as he reenters the kitchen, and nearly runs into someone dressed as Deadpool hovering over Han Solo’s dubious tub of mixed punch. 

“Whoa, sorry! I didn’t see you,” he gasps, jumping away. And then, to make up for his own painfully awkward silence, gestures at the cup in the man’s hand. “Hey, you probably shouldn’t drink that. I’ve been warned away from it twice already.”

The Deadpool stands upright, quiet for longer than Bodhi is comfortable with. For a moment, he’s worried that he’s offended him somehow. “Doesn’t that just make it more tempting?” the man says eventually.

And Bodhi’s heart _leaps_. Because the voice is muffled by a costume and partially drowned out by the music, but it’s _familiar too_. He looks into the blank red mask, blindly hoping to see something of Cassian in his body language. Kay’s words about Bodhi’s costume come rushing back to him and he almost laughs. That has to be what he meant, right? That they’d accidentally coordinated?

“M-Maybe only if you have a death wish,” Bodhi says.

Does the man lean in closer at the sound of his voice because it’s _Cassian_ and he recognizes him? Or because this stranger can’t hear Bodhi over the music?

_‘Is it you?’_

He wants to ask, but doubt chokes the words forming in his throat. Instead he nods vaguely at the man’s costume. “Nice Deadpool. Surprised you didn’t get caught up with Miss Marvel and her gang. I got _convinced_ to give the maze out back a try.” 

He tilts his head, and Bodhi can feel the grin coming off him. “Sad I missed it. I heard they were recruiting people to be scarers.”

“I don’t think they would take either of us,” Bodhi jokes. He can’t help that he’s leaning closer. At least he can claim it’s to hear what’s being said. 

It _has_ to be Cassian. It has to be.

“No, I don’t think they would.” Cassian - please, _please_ \- leans a hip up against the counter, a not quite casual sprawl that’s impossibly endearing. “Have you been here long? I don’t remember seeing you before now.”

Bodhi bites at his lip under the mask. “For a bit. Mostly just wandering around out here.”

“Not dancing?”

“I uh… didn’t have anyone to dance with.”

The other man nearly lunges upright again at that. Bodhi blinks, leaning away slightly. “Dance with me?” the man asks. He offers a hand, and Bodhi gazes at it for the span of only a breath.

“Sure,” he says, before the uncertainty can overtake him. He’s still not sure if this is real, or if he’s just jumping at a vague hope, but Bodhi has come _this far_ \- why shouldn’t he take the last few steps?

Bodhi takes the man’s hand and lets him lead him out of the kitchen onto the makeshift dance floor. There are flashing lights and people on all sides. The music is its own entity, wrapping around them all and making the space a world away from everything outside this room. The creatures and characters in masks all around them only makes it even more surreal. 

They find a clear space somewhere in the crowd, far enough in that Bodhi loses all sense of direction. He doesn’t mind so much, though, with his heart pounding against his ribs, excitement and anticipation causing everything to narrow down to him and the man he’s sure is Cassian. He can’t just be projecting his hopes onto this - there’s something too familiar in the way he’s drawn in against the man’s chest. Something knowing in the hand that settles at his waist. 

Cassian had said he would know Bodhi, even if he couldn’t see his face, right?

The question is more thrilling than it probably should be. 

“This is okay, right?” Cassian says close to his ear. 

Bodhi nods, his voice too lodged in his throat to come out. He fumbles with where to put his hands for a moment, before sliding them awkwardly up Cassian’s arms and around his shoulders. It feels so juvenile, like he’s back in middle school again. Hands too sweaty and not sure at all what to do with his limbs. But Cassian only slides his arms tighter around Bodhi’s waist, pulling him in, making Bodhi’s heart flutter against his ribs. 

There’s not much space to move, to do more than sway dizzily against one another. Any other night, Bodhi would think it claustrophobic, that there wasn’t enough space for him to breathe. But tonight he’s lost in their own little corner of the world, where it’s hard to concentrate on anything else but the man pressed against him.

He loses track of how long they dance, the music fading in and out around them, a seamless fever dream of lights and sound. And soon there’s a different kind of energy rippling through the crowd - Bodhi catches glimpses of people pairing off. Midnight is fast approaching. 

The realization of what’s surely coming hits Bodhi hard enough to make him shudder against Cassian, drawing a trembling breath that he hopes isn’t as obvious as it feels. This silly midnight kiss is the whole reason he’s gone through this, so he can actually be brave enough to kiss Cassian without feeling like he’s going to shake right out of his skin.

Some of the dancers around them aren’t waiting for midnight, some aren’t even dancing anymore if Bodhi’s honest. And the thought of just tugging up his mask and kissing Cassian before the “grand” midnight kiss consumes him for several minutes. But in the end, he can’t find the strength to just do it.

The music cuts out. And in its place a resonating chime of a grandfather clock starts. Bodhi counts them, wanting to _laugh_ at how absurd this all is. But Cassian is watching him, completely still but somehow not _expressionless_ even with the mask as the people around them jostle by, chattering and laughing and clinging to one another.

The “clock” strikes midnight. And then the dance floor is thrown into complete darkness.

There’s a brief cheer from the crowd that Bodhi only barely hears over the rush of his own blood. His heart is hammering so loudly that he’s almost sure that Cassian can _hear it_. Bodhi tries to think of something to say, but his throat has gone dry and tight.

Fingers brush at his throat, finding the seam of the mask. It’s a fleeting touch. A question. And the sound that finally leaves Bodhi’s mouth is nothing but a broken whimper, his own hands blindly searching to pull Cassian’s mask up. And even with his clumsy, trembling fingers, he manages to get both it and his own out of the way. The close, almost suffocating air touches his face for only a moment before he’s surging forward for a blind, fumbling kiss in the dark. 

By some miracle he manages to find Cassian’s mouth on the first try, though it’s at first too forceful, almost knocking his teeth against Cassian’s before he cringes and eases up. The kiss is nothing like he imagined it. It’s not the hazy, dreamlike kiss of his fantasies, the one he thought would make him feel so light that he would float away. This is something raw and _real_. Bodhi is aware of everything and nothing all at once. It’s Cassian’s mouth slick against his own and the heat of the crowd around them. Of his heart pounding a dizzy staccato against his ribs. It’s Cassian’s hands on his shoulders in the dark, squeezing as Bodhi sways closer to turn one kiss into another.

The lights don’t come back up right away. There’s a sound up by the front of the room where the makeshift dj booth has been set up, something that comes to Bodhi’s ears muffled and discordant. It’s only when the laughter starts from the people around him that he realizes they’re playing a muted version of the Halloween melody. Their kiss breaks, and Bodhi has only a few seconds to get himself back in order, to pull his mask back down and straighten his costume before the lights flicker on. 

Lando has climbed onto something at the front of the room, putting him above the crowd and grinning at all of them. “You all look like you’re enjoying the dance,” he announces into a microphone. His smirk becomes both teasing and a tiny bit naughty, but somehow keeps its charm. He basks in the moment of dizzy laughter from the crowd, and sweeps out a hand. “The Midnight Masquerade might be over, but the party’s just started! We’re going to break things up with the yearly costume contest.” Even behind the mask, the arch of his eyebrows is clearly _felt_. “Give anyone who wants to get to know their dance partner better some time.”

His announcement is met with whoops and cheers and sharp laughter. The crowd starts to undulate as he proceeds to beckon any contestants towards the front of the room. Bodhi is jostled, leaning closer to Cassian to avoid getting shoved. Cassian’s hand at his elbow draws his attention, and he tips his head towards him, his stomach exploding in a thousand tiny butterflies all over again. In the mere second it takes for Cassian to lean close, Bodhi has replayed the kiss in his head over again. He barely stops himself from just dragging Cassian in again, mask or no.

“I’ll be back,” Cassian says in his ear, his voice raised over the din. 

The bright spot of warmth in Bodhi’s chest dims just a fraction. His smile, hidden under the mask, falls from his face. “What?” he responds in confusion. His voice doesn’t carry, and before he can try again, someone is shoving between them on their way to the front of the room. Leaving him to only catch a glimpse of Cassian’s red suit weaving into the mass of people shuffling about. Bodhi quickly loses sight of him, and is left standing in the middle of the shifting crowd.

“Cassian?” he tries to call after him. He doesn’t think it’s heard by anyone, let alone the person he needs.

\--------------------5---------------------

Cassian shoulders through the crowd, only clearing it when he reaches the archway to the adjoining hall. His mood has already started to sour, irritably glancing around before he is grabbed by the front of his costume and pulled into the hallway.

“Dameron!” he snaps, shoving at the offending arm tugging him further into the house. Kes Dameron doesn’t quite let go, a grimace on his face. He has neither a mask or most of his costume on, a drastic change from the last time Cassian had seen him.

“Cass. _Cassian_ , man, I need your help.” Just hearing Kes’ voice, that urgent hitch in his words has Cassian rolling his eyes beneath the mask. The annoyance that had taken root upon seeing Kes frantically beckoning him out of the crowd only grows.

“Hurry up and tell me,” he grunts, peering over his shoulder in the direction of the crowd, faintly hoping to see that Bodhi has followed him and is still close. Every step away from him and every second feels like a lifetime, like _wasted_ time. “I have to get back.”

“Back to your little Spider-Boytoy?” Kes teases. “You looked pretty _cozy_ out there.” Cassian raises a hand, ready to punch him in the shoulder, when Kes hastily waves a hand. “No, look, sorry. I need to borrow your costume.”

“My-- _why?_ ”

“Because a douchebag spilled a whole cup of Solo’s tub juice on my Ghost Rider costume. You know what alcohol and food dye does to leather? My jacket is _ruined_. I can’t enter the contest like this.” 

Cassian huffs. “I don’t see why this is my problem.”

Kes rounds on him, eyes just a little bit wild in the low light. “Cass, look, Shara’s going in on it and she’s Death and her costume is unbelievable. I can’t win it but if I have your costume then maybe I have an in--”

He levels Kes with a flat stare. “Some asshole spilled a drink on your costume, huh?” he repeats, lacing his voice with as much doubt as he can muster.

Kes goes tellingly silent.

“Fuck, alright, fine just hurry up.” The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s being tugged through the closest doorway. (The fact that the first door they duck through is not _already occupied_ is a miracle in itself.)

Kes is pulling his shirt over his head almost before the door closes. Cassian thinks he hears pointed giggles from the hall, and his face heats. “Well, go on, strip,” Kes grunts.

That definitely doesn’t help.

He sighs, and drags the mask off his head. “You are the last person I wanted to be naked with tonight.” He gets Kes’ white t-shirt thrown at his face for his trouble. 

“Shut it, and strip faster! The contest is starting.”

\--------------------6---------------------

Trying to follow Cassian has only gotten Bodhi back out into the foyer. From inside the dance room, there are whoops and cheers as Lando conducts the costume contest. The surreal haze that Bodhi has been in for the better part of the night has abruptly shattered, leaving him disoriented. The foyer seems cold after being cramped on the dance floor for what must have been an hour or more. The world has come into stark focus again, and Bodhi peers into the faces of those around him, most of them now unmasked and some of them… incredibly focused on the _friends_ they had met on the dance floor at midnight.

There’s no sign of Cassian anywhere. It feels like Bodhi has walked around the entire first floor with no sign of him yet. It leaves Bodhi all but wringing his hands, the panicky, suffocating emotion that had been quelled at Cassian’s appearance flooding back into him.

And he swears if he runs into one more couple all but trying to fuck each other with their clothes still on, he’s going to start screaming.

A flash of red as he passes the archway into the dance room draws his eye in the end. His heart leaps into his throat, a giddy swoop in his stomach even before he fully lays eyes on Cassian’s form at the front of the room. 

Cassian hops up onto the makeshift (and notably unsteady) platform they’ve brought out for the costume contest. He waves at the crowd, in a manner that draws Bodhi up short, because Cassian isn’t a particularly theatrical person.

“Our next contender is our very own Merc with a Mouth, our Regenerate Degenerate, Deadpool!” Lando’s voice rings out over the cheering partygoers. Cassian nods along with his introduction, his entire body bouncing with the energy of it. He’s really getting into it, Bodhi observes and finds himself smiling. He lifts a hand as Cassian turns in his direction, even knowing that Cassian likely won’t be able to see him waving at the back of the room. He doesn’t even get to complete the action before Lando continues: “And who’s the man behind the mask tonight? Our very own Kes Dameron, winner of last year’s contest!”

Bodhi’s heart sinks into his feet.

At the head of the crowd, “Cassian” pulls his mask up, revealing not the razor sharp angle of Cassian’s jaw or the thoughtful curve of his lips or his intense, deep eyes.

It’s not Cassian at all.

Instead, Bodhi’s looking at Kes’ exuberant smile as he casts his gaze about the room. And Bodhi is frozen all the way down to his bones. “Shit,” he mutters, hardly even hearing his own voice. His mind has gone blank, but his feet start backing him away from the arch. And back. And back.

“Shit,” he says again, with mounting horror. Bodhi spins, feeling like his soul has left his body out of sheer _mortification_. “Shit. Shit. _Shit.”_ He’s glad for the mask now, because surely his face must be as red as his suit. He slips quickly out of Bespin House, being sure not to look at anyone. If he does, he's sure they'll somehow see how much of an _idiot_ he is.

Bodhi steals out into the night, and quietly vows never to speak of this again.

\--------------------7---------------------

Being out of the mask feels good, even if Cassian can now tell that the house smells faintly of booze and sweat and too many people. Kes’ clothes are just slightly too big on him, his jeans had to he rolled up once at the ankles and his t-shirt is just slightly too baggy on Cassian. (Kes has been putting in a distracting amount of muscle since the end of spring semester, and combined with a final growth spurt it makes Cassian feel small by comparison.) He feels like a skinny teenager sneaking into an older sibling’s college party as he pushes through the crowd.

It's a sharp contrast to how he'd felt not even twenty minutes ago, surging with power and joy and dancing on air. Mostly because he can’t find Bodhi anywhere. He’s made a complete circuit of the house, and even a quick look outside, and hasn’t even caught a glimpse of him.

“Bodhi?” he calls as a last hope. A few unmasked people nearby turn and look at him, but there’s no recognition in their eyes.

“Bodhi!”

Nothing. No sign of him at all.

He breaks down and tries asking one (or several) people if they’ve seen a man in a Spider-Man costume recently, to no avail. At the edge of panic, Cassian snags Luke as he passes, unmasked and giggling, tugging Han after him towards the stairs. “Hey, Luke, have you--”

“Cassian!” Luke beams, his face flushed. Cassian wonders briefly if he’s had one too many drinks or if he’s just running high on the thrill of the party. By the slow, appreciative slide of Solo’s gaze over Luke’s pretty face, it’s probably the latter. “I didn’t see you here! How’s it going?”

Luke’s lips are pink, freshly kissed. Cassian immediately feels like he’s intruding on something, even as they’re standing in the middle of the foyer.

“I, ah--”

“Hey, Cass,” Han echoes the greeting. The smooth dip in his voice should be sleazy, would be on anyone else. Cassian avoids his gaze, remembering all too well that he was the one on the receiving end of those long, lingering looks last year.

He clears his throat. “Han. Hey.” He tries to focus on Luke instead, it’s easier than having to talk to last year’s midnight kiss. “Luke, have you seen Bodhi?”

Luke’s smile dims. “Bodhi?” Cassian has hope, for all of five seconds. Because then Luke shakes his head. “Bodhi stayed at the dorm tonight.”

“He… no, he was here. He came with you, didn’t he?”

Luke tilts his head, his big blue eyes seeming to look straight into his thoughts, in that strangely empathetic way that Luke always does. “No. I asked him he he wanted to, but he said he’d rather stay in. He’s probably still there, though…”

Cassian stops listening to him. His mind whirls, replaying every moment of the last few hours. He was so sure… he’d been so sure it was Bodhi. Everything in him had been _so sure_.

If it hadn’t been _Bodhi_ , then who did Cassian kiss?

“Cassian? Are you alright?”

He blinks, finding Luke watching him with concerned eyes. “Yeah… yeah I’m fine. I just thought he was here, I guess…”

Luke gazes at him for a long moment. “Hey, if you want to hang out with us…”

“I don’t want to interrupt…”

It’s Han who reaches for his arm, and there’s a look in _his_ eye now. Something considering that slides from Luke to Cassian. “You wouldn’t be.” 

He frowns, and shakes his head in the end. “You don’t have to keep me company. But thanks. You two ah, have a good night.” He waves a hand as he retreats, leaving them both at the bottom of the stairs and heading for the front door. The burst of night air hits his face as he escapes the house out onto the porch. And Cassian goes to sit on the front steps for a long while. 

He watches the people lingering out on the front lawn of Bespin House, watches them starting to leave in small groups or in pairs. Eventually he rubs a hand over his face, and takes his phone out of his pocket.

 _Happy Halloween_ , he texts Bodhi, and hesitates over what to say next. _Luke said you couldn’t come tonight…_ He stops, frowning at the words, tries again: _I looked for you--_

And then viciously taps delete. 

_Sad that you couldn’t make it tonight._

It’s truly his last hope, that Bodhi might… miraculously appear beside him, phone in hand. But that too disappears in a puff of smoke when the response is:

_Sorry I wasn’t there. I had that paper from Kenobi to work on. I hope you had fun at the party._

Cassian sighs, and tucks his phone back into his pocket.

“Damnit,” he sighs.

**END.**


End file.
